Home for my fingers

I like to be honest.  I want my kids to be honest.  I like to read about people who are honest.  So, I’ll be honest with you.  (Man, that’s a lot of honesty going on.) I haven’t slept much since I accepted this writing gig.  I wasn’t particularly prepared to start working from home. Had I been organized like I always resolve to be, maybe I’d be catching zzzz’s.  But like I said before, when something irresistible comes your way, it’s hard to pass it up.  I really appreciated Devan’s recent post,  “Is Working from Home the best of both worlds?” The most important job to me in the world is being a mother.  I wear that title with pride.  Being a full-time mother is something that I consciously and purposefully choose to do.  Seeing our little world be turned upside down these last few days while I learn the ins and outs of the Internet and social networking world, has been hard.  And naturally, as a mother, as someone who typically puts others first, I’ve questioned if I made the right choice.

Am I being selfish?

Is this beneficial for my little family?

Am I flexible enough to be stretched this thin?

Can my kids handle this?

Can I handle this?

I feel really guilty.

How am I going to do this?

And of course I would think that way since I haven’t earned a paycheck in 6 years. Starting any new job is tough for anyone, especially if you’re doing something you care about.  And I care.  There’s definitely some stretching involved when you learn to do something new.  And OUCH!! I’m being stretched!!

I was eating lunch today, with my toddler on one knee and a row full of kids eating at the bar.  I was doubting myself.  Doubting my abilities and running through those thoughts again.  And then I overheard this conversation at the bar…

“Guess what, my mom got a job.” My 7 year old daughter said to her friend next to her, in a surprisingly upbeat manner.

“Isn’t that cool?” she said.  Obviously the friend could have cared less, but my daughter kept going.

“She works for Babble and now she has to write everyday.  It’s so cool, because she works and she gets to stay home.  So she works from home.  It’s SO COOL!”

She was proud!  She wasn’t sad, or ashamed or complaining.  She was proud and wanted others to know it.

So, I got up from the table, found my perma-grin again and went back to the computer.

Yeah, I can handle this.

Yeah, they can handle this.

That episode got me thinking.  Why are we mothers so hard on ourselves?  How can we avoid the unnecessary guilt trips we give ourselves?

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